“You okay?” Becca asked on a whisper.
Ava nodded and met her eyes. “I’m great. Yeah. You?”
“Ready to knock this out of the park.”
There was no more time for pumping each other up, as Liza Bennett-Schmidt entered the room, followed as always by May in her black pants and white button-down shirt. “Good morning, chefs,” Liza said, holding her hands out to the sides. She also wore her chef’s coat—not nearly as well as Regan, Ava absently thought—and May carried an iPad. “I trust you are all rested and ready?”
Murmurs went around the kitchen.
“Excellent. I also trust you all have designs or notes or sketches or whatever you need for this project. For the record, your success with this bake will be a large part of who I decide to donate my money to.” It was only the second time she’d mentioned the money, and Ava could feel everybody in the room perk up, stand a bit more at attention. Even Vienna, who had said the other night that she didn’t care about the money, seemed to straighten up and stand taller.
“Just to ensure there’s no leaking of ideas—by osmosis or by glances at other kitchens—we’re taking precautions.”
May snapped her fingers at the doorway, and suddenly staff members entered in single file, carrying large white muslin screens between them. As they proceeded to set them up around each kitchen area, Ava gave Regan a little finger-wiggle wave just before a screen was dropped there, blocking Regan from her view.
“Seems a little drastic,” she murmured out of the side of her mouth.
“I was gonna say the same thing,” Becca murmured back, and then they laughed softly at the silliness of talking out of the sides of their mouths when they were the only two inside their little muslin box.
“Screens are set.” They heard Liza’s voice, though they could no longer see her. “You have all day to make your bakes. I will wander through from time to time, but you have until five o’clock this evening and then we’ll do a presentation for everybody to see.”
“Gonna be a long day,” Becca whispered, and Ava nodded in agreement.
“Your bake starts…now,” Liza commanded, and the sounds of sudden movement could be heard in the air of the kitchen.
Ava turned to Becca. “Ready?”
Becca answered by raising her hand in the air. Ava slapped it in a high five. “We got this,” Becca said, and they were off.
The strangest thing about the setup was all the noise that shecouldn’t see happening. When she was working in Pomp, she had her own area within the kitchen where she made all her pastries and desserts. But she could still see the rest of the kitchen, watch the chefs and sous chefs making salads and chopping ingredients for soups and grilling steaks or chicken or pulling baked racks of lamb out of the oven. It was all right there for her to watch as she listened to the soundtrack of a working restaurant kitchen. This? This was just…odd. All the sounds and none of the sights.
Time ticked on. Their cake went into the oven first, as was the plan. Ava wanted to make sure it was fully cooled before she frosted and decorated it.
Liza came through at the two-hour mark, strolling in with her hands clasped behind her back to scan their station. Ava didn’t like the way she had to fight not to squirm when Liza was nearby, but she managed. Chef looked at their design on Becca’s iPad. She pressed a finger on the center of the cake, which—much to Ava’s relief—sprang back perfectly. She studied the batter in the mixing bowl, then stuck a spoon in and tasted. She gave one nod but said nothing, and Ava’s brain wanted to know if it was a nod ofPerfector a nod ofTerrible, of course she screwed it up.Liza wasn’t telling. She stood there for another moment, scrutinizing and making Ava as nervous as possible, before finally exiting behind a screen, not having said a word. Ava wasn’t proud of the breath of relief she let out, and when she glanced at Becca, they grinned at each other.
“Let’s go,” Becca said, and scrolled the iPad for what was next.
She wondered how Regan was doing. They’d been ordered not to share their ideas, so they hadn’t. But Regan had seemed just as keyed up that morning as Ava was, just as happily tense. Part of the reason for the shower sex—Tension release, Regan had claimed—and it had worked for a while. But Ava could feel her shoulders tightening up on her as she worked, stirring, mixing, chopping, piping. She took a moment and reminded herself to breathe. In slowly through the nose, out even more slowly through the mouth. She did that a couple of times and felt more centered. Baking under pressure was rough. It happened fairly often at Pomp. Somebody wanted something on the fly or a customer had a food allergy of some sort and couldn’t eat the item on the dessert menu, so Ava’d have to make something at the very last possible minute. Pressure and stress. Like now. Like today.
It was nerve-racking.
And it was exhilarating.
* * *
If you asked her, Regan would say she never really worked under pressure like this. With a time limit. But that wouldn’t exactly be true, since there had been multiple times that she had to hurry and make something on the fly—cookies to fill a suddenly cleaned-out display, a wedding cake at the very last minute that had been left off the schedule for whatever reason. But it wasn’t how she usually had to do things, so this was kind of nerve-racking.
But it was coming together. She and Hadley were very much on the same wavelength, and once the cake was done and frosted a lovely spring green, complete with texture to make it look like grass and blue wavy frosting along one side to represent a creek, Hadley started on the mini brownies they’d use to make a small picnic table as well as cornhole parts.
She was excited to see the others’ bakes. They were all such different people with such differing personalities, she was almost looking more forward to seeing the rest than showing off hers.
Ava’s was one she especially couldn’t wait to see. In the time they’d spent together, she felt like she was finally starting to get to know Ava—despite there being so much more she wanted to know. And what she was learning, she really liked. Ava was smart, and nothing turned Regan on like intelligence. She was also super creative. Her patriotism bake would be nothing short of spectacular. Regan was certain of it. Maybe tonight, they could talk some more. Just talk. Learn about each other. Find out about things like hopes and dreams and pasts and futures. She hadn’t been kidding when she talked to Kiki about wanting to trust again. Despite their past, Ava was starting to feel like somebody she could.
“Brownies in,” Hadley said quietly. “Should we start the sculptures?”
This was the part Regan could admit was her weakest: making food art. Making food look like something else. But Hadley had assured her that she was good at it, so together, they set about using fondant and cake scraps from after they trimmed it and the rice cereal bars Hadleyhad made while Regan made the cake and shaped them into other things. A tiny apple pie, plates, cups, a bag of chips, a bowl of potato salad, a cooler with cans in it. Everything in miniature. Everything totally edible. Hadley was in charge of the tiny details.
It was meticulous work, but worth it. To Regan, thiswasJuly Fourth: a picnic with all the picnic foods, cornhole, walks near the water, fireworks.
